


Testimony

by FallenSoFar



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenSoFar/pseuds/FallenSoFar
Summary: “Alex…”“Hmm?”“Tell me how Astra died?” It’s not what she means to ask, but it’s clearly the right question, Alex’s eyes widening as she pulls in a surprised breath.
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Alura In-Ze | Alura Zor-El
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	Testimony

Nights are clearer in this human city.

The stars are more hidden than on Argo, light radiating up and blocking the heavens, but the dark is deep and the colours crisp. Alura thinks it's probably because of the yellow sun, which during the daytime is warm but different, so different, to the light of Rao which was always there when she was growing up—even when it wasn’t.

Alura wonders if Kara remembers the gentle glow of the cityscape at night, or whether that’s something that’s been lost with time, leaving only this riot of colour and the constant movement of humans who never seem to rest. For a moment she wants to ask, but even though Kara only walks a few paces ahead it feels like there are lightyears between them and she can’t bridge the gap by looking backwards.

An outburst ahead pulls Alura’s attention from the sky, and she looks across in time to catch Kara pushing Agent Danvers— _Alex_ —sideways on the pavement, laughing as she re-enacts a scene from the moving picture they’d just been to see. This version of her daughter is louder, more boisterous than would have been proper on the streets of Krypton, and Alura doesn’t know quite what to make of the change but finds herself smiling because Kara is alive and she’s right there and nobody would look twice if Alura were to pull her close and hug her in the middle of a public thoroughfare.

Before she can catch up, Kara stops, head tilted slightly and posture suddenly alert. Alura has barely taken note of the change before Alex has pulled her phone out, ready to dial. Kara is waving off the implied offer of DEO assistance however, gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance and posture alert, suggesting that she’s trying to pinpoint the source of a disturbance.

Alura wonders if she could listen to the same thing that Kara is, if she concentrated. She’s yet to really test the new abilities she’s been granted by Earth’s yellow sun, but she can feel them beneath her skin like an itch just waiting to be scratched.

Once again she’s too late, and Kara darts away into the shadows, reappearing a moment later to thrust a bundle of clothing into Alura’s grasp—just as though she’d arrived home from class and was impatient to go and play.

Kara murmurs something about a bus crash and a.. freeway?... before lifting off. She flies away without a moment’s hesitation and Alura watches until the flashing red of her cape has long disappeared into the night.

Now she’s left on the pavement; alone, with Alex Danvers.

Alura is a little surprised to note this is the first time they’ve been alone together. At Kara’s house, her daughter is always there as a buffer; at the DEO there are countless other agents around. Even in situations where it would make sense for them to have a private conversation there is always a technician, or a guard, or even a custodian around. In fact, Alura is just starting to realise that every time it seems as though they will be alone together, Alex finds some excuse to leave.

Kara’s human sister is uncomfortable in her presence.

She’s caught Alex staring, some deep emotion barely held in check, when she thinks Alura is unaware. It’s something to do with Astra, she knows. She’s always known when someone has been looking at her, but seeing her sister.

It had never been a bad thing, being mistaken for Astra. Not until that day, when the arrest warrant had crossed her desk. Not until she had sent Astra away and the only place she could see her sister’s face was when she was looking in the mirror.

Alura had asked, when she’d learned about the crash of that prison ship. Naturally, she’d asked about Astra, hope alighting briefly in her chest. Kara’s smile had frozen before the question was completed and Alura didn't hear the next words out of her mouth, she felt them instead; hope shrivelling, digging claws into her heart. Then that word. The word Alura tried not to think about; hoped never to hear again. _Myriad_.

No, whatever Alex Danvers sees when she looks at Alura, it is something bad.

Something no-one will speak about.

Something that means even now Alex will not look at her. Instead, the woman fidgets beside Alura on the path, tapping away at the device in her hand. Kara had promised fried sweetened dough after the picture, however Alex is no doubt formulating some excuse as to why she has to rush off.

“I’ll arrange a car to drop you off. I’m sure Kara will check in when she’s done.” And there it is. If Alura were a gambling woman she could make a lot of Earth money betting on this woman’s avoidance tactics.

“It isn’t too far to walk, is it?” Alura asks, and continues without giving Alex a chance to reply, “It’s such a nice night, and you’re here to keep me from getting lost.”

There’s no way Alex Danvers can say no without being obviously rude.

Alura knows that the humans sometimes laugh at her mispronouncing words, or getting idioms wrong, but she was still the youngest person ever admitted to the judicial council. She knows how to make people do what she wants, and what Alura wants tonight is for Alex to stop running.

A ripple of dismay crosses the agent’s face before it falls back into that polite, solemn mask Alura is used to seeing. If she hadn’t been watching for the reaction she’s not sure she would have noticed it. Alex nods though, and gestures forwards, slipping her phone back in her pocket before striding forward without another word.

They walk like that for several minutes and, while Alura has never been afraid of quiet, the silence between them is stifling and nearly unbearable. So she points out a strange metal statue on the side of the road and Alex politely explains about fire hydrants, and then it is back to silence.

It’s frustrating.

Alura wants to get to know the sister Kara adores: the person she’s glimpsed during unguarded moments laughing with colleagues or resting a comforting hand on Kara’s arm without a word passing between them. In sync.

Alura used to have that. Used to have a sister.

Once, she could complete Astra’s sentences, and laugh at jokes which belonged only to the two of them. She’d wanted this for Kara, once upon a time. Wanted a younger sibling whose hand Kara would hold. Her daughter had barely been sitting upright when use of the birthing matrix had become restricted, and Alura let go of that dream.

Then she let go of Kara.

Now her daughter is back, and she has a sister. Alura is happy, she is, but it’s like looking at her dream sideways, through a mirror—distorted and a little bit wrong.

Kara is the younger sibling, and her sister is not Alura’s daughter. She never got to hold the pair of them close during a storm; never got to break up petty squabbles or tell them she was proud when they stood up for each other.

Kara’s sister is a grown woman, who looks at her with haunted eyes. A human who doesn’t see Alura when she stands in front of her, and who walks beside her now in a silence like the eye of a storm.

And Alura can’t wait any more, she needs to know why.

“Alex…”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me how Astra died?” It’s not what she means to ask, but it’s clearly the right question, Alex’s eyes widening as she pulls in a surprised breath.

“I…” She flounders, looking anywhere but at Alura, “um, you’ve read the reports, right?”

“The reports say nothing.” It’s true. Alura has been given access to a number of DEO files, had been encouraged to look over the Fort R’ozz records, but the documents on Astra had been thin. What hadn’t been redacted was vague to the point of illegibility.

“Alex, please.” Alura reaches out, then pulls her hand back when the action produces a slight flinch. “You were there, weren’t you?”

It’s the one thing she’s almost sure of, despite Agent Danvers never appearing by name. It’s the only thing that makes sense. She knows she’s right when Alex looks at her, and then away again, jaw clenching; an uncooperative witness, summoned to testify.

“I—Why do you have to know? Combat isn’t a report, or a trial transcript. It’s ugly, and painful, and Astra—Knowing the details won’t change what happened.” Alura can't tell if it's irritation or anguish filling the human’s voice. “It won't bring her back.”

“If it was Kara, wouldn’t you need to know?”

Alex stiffens as though shot, and spins to face the other direction. Hides her face. Alura watches her hands clench, and release, only to slowly curl back into fists. Her shoulders drop suddenly, and her chin dips toward her chest, and Alura almost feels a twinge of guilt at the woman’s obvious distress.

Almost.

However, Alex Danvers straightens her spine and–without turning–starts to speak.

“I saw Astra. Earlier that day. Before the fight.” The words come out haltingly, in short bursts, Alex’s breath hitching every few words. “She came to Kara’s apartment, put her hand around my neck and bullied me into listening to her. Now, I can’t help but wonder if she was there to try to stop the Black Mercy before it struck. Then, I could only think about Kara.”

They’re still in the middle of the street, but Alura closes her eyes and can see Astra’s face as it was the day they'd trapped her. Tricked her. Alura’s brash, passionate sister pleading and threatening in turn.

She’d come for Kara then, as well.

“Astra saved her. We didn’t know what to do and Kara was dying and if Astra hadn’t found me and told me about the Black Mercy—” A fine tremor runs through Alex’s frame, and Alura twitches in sympathetic anguish. “Astra made it so I could save Kara.”

Alex still doesn’t turn and Alura wishes she could see her face, decipher the odd tone that has crept into her voice; something like gratitude, or pleading, or dread.

'The next time I saw her it was from an assault chopper. Astra was trying to install Myriad and I fired at her, knowing— _knowing_ —that the bullets wouldn’t have any effect. A distraction.

“She shot me out of the sky, and when I got to my feet I fired again.

“Astra put the box down. I remember that. And she wrapped her hand around my throat for the second time. She didn’t squeeze, though; didn’t push me over the building ledge. Held me there while I begged her to join us.

“She was listening.”

Alura can’t help the way her pulse jumps when she hears this. She knows this story doesn’t have a happy ending, but a tiny traitorous hope kindles in her chest. Hope that maybe her sister died doing the right thing, that there was meaning in this pain.

Hope which is quashed as Alex continues speaking.

“J’onn couldn’t see the way Asra’s grip softened: all he could see was me struggling for air and the hard ground waiting far below. He struck, and I was gasping on the ground barely able to follow the fight except for streaks of colour in the sky.

“They were moving so fast.”

Alura wants to interrupt, to beg Alex to stop speaking, but she has to know and it seems like Alex has to tell her. Has to finish now that she’s started. The human’s speech, stilted at the beginning now comes rapidly, breath catching as she runs out of oxygen and is forced to pause momentarily.

“I don’t even know why I unstrapped the sword. The sword we didn’t even know would work against their shields. It was something to do when I felt too helpless to do anything.

“Then everything stopped. Astra was behind J’onn and her blade was at his throat. She said she was going to give him an honourable death. Like that meant something.”

Alex turns, finally, eyes wild when they meet Alura’s. She has a white knuckled grip on the lapel of her shirt, and her clenched jaw does nothing to stop the quiver of her lips. Trying, and failing, to hold herself together.

Alura wishes she could stop up her ears, halt the dreadful momentum of Alex’s words.

“I don't remember making the decision to move. I do remember—I remember the shock as I pulled back my sword and her knees hit the ground.”

There comes a pause like the world holding its breath–

“I killed her.”

–and Alex’s final confession shatters the quiet with the force of a grenade.

Alura turns away. Doesn’t look at Alex, doesn’t speak, hardly even breathes. Everything is too loud and too bright, the human’s heartbeat a series of thunderclaps striking her between the ears. Her body thrums with the need to still that infernal rhythm filling the space where her sister is not. To rend, and tear, and—

Alura bends her knees and leaps, throwing off the shackles of this planet’s gravity for the first time since arriving. She doesn’t look back to see the crater she’d left in the pavement, or the human, who drops to her knees in the middle of the street.

She races towards the stars.

She throws her head back.

And she screams.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a scene in the musical 'Bandstand'. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. I googled how to format long stretches of dialogue but it still feels weird. No more monologues, Alex!


End file.
